


Gold in a Fire

by eskandarrohani (erohani)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Complete, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, Family Issues, Gift Exchange, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, Nonbinary Xion (Kingdom Hearts), feat. a cameo by my personal damage, in tonight's performance the role of master xehanort will be played by my father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22062235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erohani/pseuds/eskandarrohani
Summary: Vanitas' goals for his family's New Year's Eve party:1. Don't get in any fights2. Eat some good food3. Avoid his grandfatherWhen everything goes to hell, Ven will be there.
Relationships: Vanitas/Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 83
Collections: Kingdom Hearts Holiday Gift Exchange





	Gold in a Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noahliza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahliza/gifts).



> Wishing you the best for 2020! I hope your holidays were filled with good memories and good company c:

He’s forty minutes late.

Vanitas steps into the apartment and the elevator doors close behind him with the finality of a coffin clicking shut. Xemnas’ insufferably modern apartment stretches out wide in all directions, well-dressed guests loitering throughout the space or lounging on overpriced and uncomfortable looking furniture. Vanitas isn’t even two steps in and he's already itching to leave. The whole vibe of this party is noxious, all strained smiles and backhanded compliments. No one has seen him yet. He could still escape. An excellent way to start off the new year.

“Took you long enough to show your ugly mug.” Braig slings an arm over Vanitas’ shoulders and sags against him, beer sloshing out of his loosely gripped bottle and over his fingers. An unacceptable hat perches on his head at a jaunty angle, and his single eye gleams at Vanitas as he drags him into the apartment. “Isn’t your place like thirty minutes away?”

It’s more like fifteen, actually. Vanitas just shows his teeth in a bad attempt of a smile and replies, “Traffic was bad.”

Braig laughs like a chainsaw. “As if. You probably waited as long as you could before leaving. So, where’s lover boy? You look wilted without your better half.”

Vanitas’ phone sits heavy in his pocket, still open to his texts with Ven. 

> _Omw from Lea’s!  
>  Try not to start any fights _🙏
> 
> _no promises_ 👹

To Braig, he widens his smile. “He’s making a pit stop.”

He knew he should’ve shown up a full hour late. Ven never leaves anywhere when he says he will.

“I hope the pipsqueak gets here soon,” Braig says as he steers Vanitas through clusters of guests into the kitchen with its fully stocked bar. He drains the rest of his beer and sighs, his breath smelling of hops. “No offense, but you’re a real downer without blondie here to balance out your crap attitude.”

Vanitas peels his lips back far enough to show his molars. “I’ve been told.”

Braig snickers again and cracks open two new beer bottles with his teeth. He spits the caps aside and offers one bottle to Vanitas. “Lighten up, kid. It’s New Year’s Eve.”

Vanitas takes the bottle. Its frosted glass is so cold that his hand cramps. “L’chaim,” he mutters, clinking their bottles together. Braig echoes the toast and takes a long gulp. When he’s finally done, Vanitas asks, “The old man here?”

“Obviously. Last I saw, Junior was with him.”

Of course he was. Fucking suck up. Vanitas chugs half of his beer in a single go while Braig watches, his mouth curling into a knowing smirk.

“Here’s some free advice from me to you. Maybe wait until blondie is here before you go looking for the old man,” Braig drawls. “Try to start 2020 off on a good note.” He pats Vanitas on the back and saunters off.

Vanitas watches him go. He takes another drink of his beer. Asshole.

“Wow,” Elrena says, appearing in the pantry doorway, a tumbler of something on the rocks swirling in one hand and her phone in the other. “Sounds like your night is going well.”

“Don’t pretend yours is going any better. What were you doing in the pantry?”

“Hiding. Duh.” She slouches by the stove, where a massive pot of rice steams. She sips at her drink. “Where’s Ven?”

“Where’s Lauriam?” he shoots back.

She casts him a withering look. “His sister is sick, so he’s at home with her. Congratulations, you’re an asshole.”

Vanitas snorts, “I’m in good company,” which makes her smirk. He slips his phone out of his coat pocket and unlocks it. “Ven’s running late, but he’ll be here soon.” There are two texts from him: _15 minutes away!_ and _People who floss their teeth in public belong in a special place in hell_. Vanitas smiles.

Elrena makes a gagging noise. “Go make eyes at your phone somewhere else. Have you even said hi to Grandpa yet?”

“I’d be drinking a lot more heavily if I had.”

She raises her glass to that. “Literally why I'm here.” Elrena polishes off the last of her drink with a grimace and thumps her chest against the burn. “But for real, you better get on that. It’ll be ugly if you don’t. He’s already pissed that you didn’t come once for Chanukah.”

“Chanukah literally doesn’t matter. Shouldn’t he be pissed that I didn’t come for Yom Kippur?”

“Oh, he is.”

Vanitas drags a hand over his face, blocking out Elrena’s gleeful expression. “Perfect.”

Out in the living room, someone changes the unobtrusive jazz playing in the background to something loud with a thumping bass that makes the champagne flutes standing on the counter clink perilously. Elrena’s grin transforms into a grimace. “It’s barely nine o’clock and they’re already pumping out the house music?” She refills her glass with a horrifying amount of tequila. “I may die here.” She drinks a mouthful of tequila and coughs wetly.

Vanitas is inclined to agree, but he suspects that she’s more likely to be killed by alcohol poisoning than poor atmosphere. “Just eat something and go back to hiding in the pantry.”

Elrena cackles in his face. “You think the food is actually ready? I know you’ve been making yourself scarce at family events, but _please_.”

As if summoned by her criticism, Xemnas bustles into the kitchen, a platter piled high with pita and nothing else. There’s a tension to his normally placid face that indicates things aren’t going according to plan. Seeing their critical expressions, he frowns at them, daring them to comment.

Unafraid and probably a little drunk, Elrena snipes, “Oh good, plain bread. My favorite.”

Xemnas bristles, “There are sides in the fridge.” He makes no mention of the lack of an actual entree, which isn’t encouraging. “You can even dish them out, since you’re so troubled by their absence.”

Elrena’s face looks like it’s turning inside out at the order, but she goes to the refrigerator anyway. “What, Vanitas doesn’t have to help? Sounds sexist.”

Vanitas glares at her. Traitor. “I haven’t even said hello to anyone yet.”

“Which we all know you’re _dying_ to do,” Elrena sneers as she pulls containers from the fridge and sets them on the counter.

Without blinking, Xemnas says, “Vanitas, so good to have you join us tonight. It’s been too long.” He gives Vanitas a businesslike hug and kisses him on each cheek. “Go upstairs to the roof and help with the cooking.”

“The roof?”

“The roof.”

“We’re cooking on _the roof_?”

Elrena scoffs, “Well, we’re obviously not cooking in the kitchen.”

Xemnas explains, “The indoor grill broke. So we’re using a charcoal grill on the roof.”

He must be hearing them wrong. There’s no way. “Isn’t it 13° outside?”

“It is chilly,” Xemnas says, cagily. “So it’s a good thing you’ve kept your coat on.”

*

Xemnas kicks Vanitas out of the kitchen with a stack of aluminum foil pans lined with lavash bread and instructions to the building’s stairwell that Vanitas would call vague, if he was feeling charitable. He didn’t even realize that there was a stairwell hiding somewhere in this building, but he supposes that even his family can’t overrule NYC’s fire code.

He cautiously wanders down the hallway towards the old man’s room, per Xemnas’ instructions, looking for a door that’s “not a closet.” He’s standing in front of the last door, one hand on the doorknob, when an oily voice slithers through the air:

“Isn’t this a surprise. I wasn’t sure you’d come tonight.”

Vanitas braces himself and puts on his blankest expression before turning to look at Junior, the undisputed king of the cousins and the only one who got the privilege of being named after the old man. He looks every bit the spitting image of his namesake, right down to the way his lips quirk to the side. “Happy New Year,” Vanitas forces out, using the voice he reserves for addressing idiots on the subway. It sounds like an accusation, not a greeting.

Junior raises an immaculately shaped eyebrow and gestures to his fancy watch. “It’s not midnight, so technically it’s still New Year’s Eve,” he says shittily.

Ventus told him to try not to start any fights. But it is so, so tempting. He readjusts his grip on the foil trays.

“Oh.” Junior smiles brightly. “Where’s your boyfriend? Ben or something, right?”

 _Ben or something_. Vanitas smiles back, hard enough that his cheeks hurt. “He’s on his way. And his name is Ven, actually.”

“Right, sorry,” Junior says, not looking sorry at all. Vanitas’ molars grind together. “I’m really busy at grad school, so I don’t remember anything that doesn’t have to do with my dissertation. Have I told you about my dissertation?” Only forty thousand times. “It’s about time travel and the multiverse.” Junior affects a concerned look. “It’s a little difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t have a lot of familiarity with physics.”

Vanitas stares at his cousin, weighing the value of breaking his teeth over containing his frustration and making Ven proud. He sucks in a long breath and exhales slowly. He raises his eyebrows at Junior and lets the manic grin ease just enough that it almost seems natural. Junior blanches at the expression; it’s great.

“You’re so bright,” Vanitas says. He stretches out a hand and aggressively musses his cousin’s hair until it resembles a bird nest. “If only you were a chandelier, hanging all day and burning all night.” He pats Junior on the head, and hurries through the door while he’s still spluttering.

The stairwell is insulated, but not very well. There’s a bite to the air that makes Vanitas wish he’d had the foresight to put his gloves back on before beginning the climb up the two flights of stairs to the roof. 

Xemnas’ building is short for the neighborhood, and with one mega luxury apartment per floor, there are only five apartments above the ground floor art gallery. The tar covering the rooftop spreads out like a black sea beneath Vanitas’ feet, buffered by a short brick wall. Amid the ventilation ducts, a lone picnic table and a charcoal grill sit, illuminated by a series of solar powered torches and a few strings of fairy lights. A cold breeze whirls across the rooftop, carrying with it the smell of fire and cooking meat and the sounds of traffic down below.

Vanitas approaches the picnic table, the clatter of trays sounding his arrival. He doesn’t have to look too closely at the person bent over the grill to know who it is—not only is the task of grilling almost always entrusted to the same person, there aren't many people in the family who are shorter than him. The tightness in his shoulders eases.

“Happy New Year, Xion.”

“Hi Vanitas,” Xion says, voice muffled from behind a lumpy scarf. They’re swimming in a massive black parka, hood pulled so low over their face that Vanitas can’t even see their eyes. Xion flips the kebabs on the grill with trained hands. “Who conned you into coming up here? This is where people banished from dinner get stuck.”

“More like who conned you,” Vanitas retorts. He roots around in his coat, trying to find his gloves. He’s missing the left one. He shoves his bare hand into the warmth of his pocket. “You could’ve said that you didn’t want to cook.”

Xion snorts. “You know as well as I do that telling those guys ‘no’ is very difficult. And it’s better to be up here than down there with Grandpa and the others. Anyway,” their voice takes on a mischievous lilt, “the last time someone else did the grilling it was a nightmare.”

This startles a laugh out of Vanitas, clouds of his breath swelling in the cold air. “I didn’t do that badly!”

Xion huffs an airy giggle and pats his arm. “Keep telling yourself that.” They inspect a skewer by the light of their cellphone’s flashlight. Dissatisfied, Xion sets it back down over the fire. “Is Ven coming by tonight? Lea mentioned that they were running an errand together.”

“He’s supposed to be here soon.”

“It’s not like Ven to leave you with everyone without backup. What’s keeping him?”

Vanitas thinks back to that morning, when he and Ven were still lying in bed, too warm and comfortable to do anything besides scroll aimlessly through their phones and try to dodge each other’s morning breath. Vanitas had received a text in his family’s group chat from the old man: _Expecting to see each of you tonight as we celebrate this new year_ , which wasn’t a missive of anticipation so much as it was a thinly veiled threat. His whole body went tense, and Ven, who was snuggled up behind him, had leaned forward to squint over his shoulder, all but blind without his glasses or contact lenses. “Is your fam already ruining the day?” he had asked, even though he already knew. They’re so in sync, sometimes it feels like they share a heart.

Vanitas had made some kind of caveman sound, because anything more than that was asking too much at seven in the morning. Then Ven had curled a hand around Vanitas’ hip, pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, and mumbled the promise into his skin that everything would be okay in the end; he’d make sure of it.

Vanitas sits down at the picnic table and tilts his head back so he can gaze up at the dark sky. It’s impossible to see any stars tonight. “He said it was a surprise for when the party inevitably goes to shit.”

“That sounds like Ven,” Xion says, fondly. “I wonder what the surprise is.”

“I guess we’ll find out eventually.”

Laughing, Xion asks, “Shouldn’t you be hoping the night doesn’t get ruined?”

They’re right, and on some level Vanitas craves a night with his family that doesn’t make him want to tear his hair out. But his family is his family, and he knows better than to expect any of them to change their nature. His faith is better off placed in Ven, who always comes through on his promises.

He slants a smile at Xion—the first genuine smile of the night. “Better to be a pessimist,” he says. “I’m always either right or pleasantly surprised.”

“What a way to live life!”

Xion inspects the kebabs again and deems them done with a nod. Vanitas comes forward with a tray and they both get to work laying the kebabs over the thin layer of bread, scorched vegetables lining up beside skewers of koobideh, the mixed ground beef and lamb made fragrant with onions. They fold a foil cover into place to conserve heat, and steam creeps out in pale wisps.

Once the grill is empty and the tray is heavy with food, Xion takes the tray and inclines their head to a sealed pyrex container waiting on the grill’s side table. “Want a chance at redemption?” they ask. “If you can get started on the joojeh kebab while I take this downstairs and defrost for a little, I’ll owe you a big favor.”

Vanitas gives them an appraising look. “You’re trusting me with the chicken?”

Xion shrugs. “It’s not like koobideh, it won’t fall off the skewer into the fire if you don’t cook it evenly. You can afford to ignore it a little.”

“You’re the boss.”

“Damn right I am.” Xion shifts the weight of the food in their arms and heads off. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Vanitas waves a lazy hand and gets started on the lemon and saffron marinated chicken, prying open the container and pulling skewers out. “Take your time.”

He’s finishing laying the chicken out on the grill when he hears the rooftop door reopen and shut.

“Hey Xion,” Vanitas calls over his shoulder, still preoccupied with the food. “Check it out, I didn’t ruin everything.”

A soft chuckle. “I wish you’d say that more often.”

Warmth blooms in Vanitas’ chest. He pointedly ignores Ven’s comment, ducking his head and pretending to be very focused on the kebabs. “You’re late,” he mutters in place of _I missed you_.

Ven laughs easily and presses a kiss to Vanitas’ left cheek. “I missed you too.” He slides a hand into Vanitas’ pocket, and laces their fingers together. All the remaining tension that’s welled up in Vanitas’ body evaporates, exorcised by Ven’s touch. “I’m sorry you were here alone. We’ll go together next time,” he promises. “Has everything been okay?”

Vanitas shrugs a single shoulder. “As okay as it can be.” He closes the grill hood. “I haven’t seen the old man yet.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that to me.” To his credit, Ven doesn’t flinch when Vanitas crushes his hand in shock. His fingers wiggle against Vanitas’ until the grip becomes comfortable again. “I ran into him while looking for the stairwell,” Ven explains, stroking idle circles with his thumb.

“Was he pissed?”

“Uh…” Ven’s lips press into a line as he debates this. “No?” At Vanitas’ incredulous look, he amends, “Well, maybe he was a little pissed. But not more than he usually is. He looked distracted. He had like three incoming Facetime calls when I saw him.”

“I really need to say hello to him before he gets really angry,” Vanitas sighs. He turns to look at Ventus, but his brain stutters at the sight of the very full duffle bag hanging from Ven’s shoulder. He points, “You didn’t leave home with that.”

Ven flashes a playful grin. “Correct.”

Vanitas stares at the bag. “So, this has something to do with why you’re late? Your surprise?”

“Correct!”

The duffle is practically bulging open, the zipper puckering from effort. It looks ready to give out and spill all its secrets.

“So how does this work?” Vanitas asks. “If the night doesn’t end in a shitshow, do I forfeit my rights to the surprise?”

Ven’s eyebrows wiggle as he drums his fingers on the bag strap. He lifts his chin, drawling, “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

The rooftop door opens again and Xion strides out to join them at the grill. “Oh, Ven! So glad you made it!” Then, “Vanitas, did you ruin my chicken?” They open the grill with the apprehension of someone disabling a bomb.

Watching Ven out of the corner of his eye, Vanitas says, “I didn’t ruin everything.” Ven squeezes his hand, smile broadening.

Satisfied with what they find, Xion says, “You guys should go downstairs and get some of the koobideh and stuff before it’s all gone. They’re like wild animals down there. I think I saw Luxord get bitten by Elrena because he got between her and the grilled tomatoes.”

Concerned, Ven asks, “Should we set aside something for you?”

“No need, I’m an expert at these gatherings,” Xion reassures him as he sets the duffle down on the table for later. “I already have a full plate hidden in Xemnas’ study. Go, eat, and try not to kill anyone.”

*

They split up once they get back to the apartment: Ven to procure food, because as a non-relative, he’s less likely to incur physical or verbal attacks, and Vanitas to use the bathroom.

Unfortunately, he finds the bathroom off the living room soundly occupied by someone busy puking their guts out. After trying in vain to get Even’s head out of the toilet bowl for a full minute, Vanitas labels the situation Not His Problem. He doesn’t even like Even.

From what he can remember, there are two more bathrooms in the apartment. One is off of the old man’s bedroom, and therefore out of the question. The other one is off of Xemnas’ bedroom.

So that’s where Vanitas goes.

Hidden away in the farside of the apartment at the very end of a hallway, the noise pollution from the music and screaming drunken relatives fades to a dull roar. It’s quiet enough that if Vanitas really tries, he can almost convince himself that no one else is around. He opens the door to Xemnas’ bedroom and his heart leaps into his mouth.

Sitting on the corner of the bed, iPad in hand, is Vanitas’ grandfather.

They stare at each other. The old man’s eyes harden. He says, “ Ah. Vanitas.” He says his name like it’s a curse.

“I’m sorry,” Vanitas says, voice low and barely steady, “I didn’t realize you were here.”

The old man makes a rude sound, face shifting into something cruel. “I believe you. You would have been content to avoid me all night.”

“That’s not true,” Vanitas lies, but the old man isn’t listening to him.

He flicks his hand at the iPad. “Everyone in Israel and Iran has called.” He doesn’t sound happy about it. “How is it that our family overseas makes more of an effort to reach out than you do? When was the last time you visited, or called, or texted? Do you even know?” He says all of this in a soft monotone, voice completely devoid of anything. Vanitas thinks it might be easier to handle if it was screamed at him.

The old man continues, “I know you live fifteen minutes away. Kindly tell me what in your life is so very important that you can’t be bothered to maintain even a modicum of communication with your family.” His mouth twists. “We are owed more respect, boy.”

Vanitas’ mouth is so dry. He swallows. It doesn’t help. “I’ve been busy with work, and—”

“I want an explanation, not an excuse,” the old man snaps. “The fact that we’re having this conversation _again_ is proof that your priorities are not in the right order. I strongly recommend you reevaluate your life and your choices.”

“I—”

“Have you heard anything I just said?” the old man interrupts. He’s standing now, brandishing a wizened finger in Vanitas’ face like it’s a weapon. Vanitas can feel his vision going dark and blurry around the edges, unable to make sense of anything else but his grandfather, frothy spittle in the corners of his mouth and eyes bright with indignation.

“Did you know that your cousin visits every week? He lives much farther away than you do but he _understands_. He understands that in this world, everything around you is temporary— _except for your family_.” He beats his chest with a fist. “You think your job matters? Your friends? Your boyfriend?”

That last word yanks Vanitas’ mind back down into his body. He blinks the haze clear, the emptiness in his heart flooding with simmering rage. His grandfather stands in front of him. He looks thinner than he did in the fall, more desperate.

“Family is the single most important thing, Vanitas,” he rasps. “Get that through your head and grow up.”

Vanitas is silent for a moment. “For someone who says family is so important, you put a lot of effort into driving yours away.”

The old man’s mouth falls slack. Vanitas waits impassively for some kind of comeback. When none comes, he turns around and leaves.

He runs into Ven halfway down the hallway, precariously balancing two plates in his hands. One look at Vanitas’ face and his expression falls. “Is everything ruined?” Ven asks. His fingers twitch like he wants to touch Vanitas, to soothe him in some way.

Vanitas leans in and kisses him briefly, closes his eyes and actually lets himself feel it. Ven makes a soft sound and relaxes. When they part, Vanitas murmurs against Ven’s lips, “Yes, but it’s not my fault.”

Ven kisses him again, decisively. “Damn right it’s not.” He rises up on his toes to peck Vanitas on the crinkle between his eyebrows. “Let’s go. The surprise is on the roof.”

*

The bag turns out to be bursting with illegal fireworks.

In hindsight, it’s 100% on brand as a task that Ven would recruit Lea for. Vanitas is almost annoyed he didn’t figure it out on his own.

“You know that the city is going to be launching fireworks later tonight, right? Like, a _lot_ of fireworks.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not into blowing shit up right over your grandpa’s head,” Ven retorts, not even looking up from where he sits unboxing and unwrapping fireworks.

Vanitas kneels down behind Ven, sliding his arms around his waist and burying his grin in Ven’s shoulder.

They decide to start everything up with a bang: they set up one of the finale boxes on an empty patch of roof and double check that it’s pointing straight up. Both a fire extinguisher and a bucket of water wait nearby in case of an emergency.

Ven tosses Vanitas the lighter. “Care to do the honors?”

The fuse catches almost instantly, and Vanitas scrambles away to join Ven on top of the picnic table before the first one launches.

With a sharp crack, a firework screams into the air and bursts into roaring sparkles; the second one shoots out right behind it. Ventus sucks in a gasp of delight and squeezes Vanitas’ hand while pointing excitedly at the waterfalls of light cascading through the darkness. Vanitas watches Ven: takes in the faint flush resting high on his cheeks, the way every starburst of shimmering light shines in his eyes, the uninhibited way he smiles, the effortless way he loves.

“Wow,” Ven breathes. “Vanitas, isn’t this amazing?” The smile he has when he looks at Vanitas is just like the smile he wears while watching the fireworks overhead. No, Vanitas realizes, it’s _brighter_.

“Yeah,” Vanitas says. “It’s amazing.”


End file.
